(Double update to catch up on missed days. 200 words if you will.)
While the weather is gloriously Mediterranean, Treacle is living in the garden. Every time she hears the
brash blackbirds she shows the courage shared by guinea pigs and Prime Ministers and flees into her hutch. I don't blame her. I'm not confident I could fight them either.
In an unintentional eavesdrop, we discovered the neighbour-over-the-back-fence's daughter's name. I thought he was having a Covid related breakdown shouting, "Alexa, stop it. Alexa! This is your final warning!" before The Chef pointed out it was likely his daughter. School must be a laugh a minute for her.
In explaining my confusion over the non-voice-assistant family member, I futzed my words and declared that, "My drain has been brinking." I do love beer in the Friday sunshine. When are beer gardens safe to drink in again? I want to sit in the Free Trade and stare along the Tyne.
Our nursery is south facing. Piglet got so hot in her sleeping bag that, on resettling, it felt like cuddling a microwaved potato. Two hours later and still no sign of sleep...